


Legendary Lovers

by 13thJaguar



Series: That Don't Impress Me Much [1]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Bruno Mars (Musician), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Damn Hotties, F/M, HECK!, Like, fangirling, mature rating for laterz, omfg, shoot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thJaguar/pseuds/13thJaguar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are so many types of men in this world. First, there's the playboy. Second, there's the smart guy. And third, the gentlemen. For Dixie, Taylor and Lyric: They had their fair share of these three types.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dixie Clarthone

**Author's Note:**

> The "Mature" rating is not until later.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Special FX make-up artist, Dixie is forced to star in an Independent film called Legendary Lovers as Tom Hiddleston's younger sister. As the movie becomes popular right under their noses, Tom urges Dixie to go out to a club and start enjoying her new life as an actor.

I sat up on my bed, as I opened my eyes and yelped. _Not again_ , I thought, as I looked around for a digital clock. Literally, but I managed. I _actually_ managed to wake up in the morning.

“Dix, I want food,” my sister, Arisa said, stretching her arms. “Can you go and make some breakfast?”

I shook my head and got myself out of bed. “Go make yourself breakfast,” I said, opening my closet drawers and rummaging through my clothes. “Y'know that Alli doesn't like absences or lateness.” I turned my head, closing the top drawer, and moved to the second drawer. I smirked, then opened the last drawer, after closing the second drawer. I pulled out a floweral dress. “We can always go to the movies, to-” I cut the last word in my sentence off, as I walked into the bathroom. And got changed into the dress, and my black cardigan.

“Pretty Little Lairs, or I Saw the Light?” she asked.

“That's like asking me,” I said, walking out of the bathroom. “Scandal or Country music.” I hooked the left earring into my ear.

“Or Lucy Hale or British guy,” she muttered, quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing, sis.”

“Ok,” I said, then walked out of my bedroom door. And walked out of the house, and saw Jermaine waiting in his 2008 Ford, five-door car. “Jermaine.”

“Diane,” he said with his vague girly voice. He reached out to press the play button, and _Patience_ from Dreamgirls came on. “Shall we?”

“We shall...”

He drove towards the set of _Legendary Lovers_. I walked into one of the movie's star's trailer, after arriving in Beverly Hills. I opened the dresser drawer and took out the black hair dye, hair comb, and hair pins. I walked towards the sofa and sat down, waiting for an actor to walk in. _Fucking actors, fucking bts work, and fuck the waiting_. I turned my head, as I heard a few voices. I saw the door open.

“Hi there,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, hey... Your that guy with the hair,” I said with a high pitched voice.

He sighed. “You mean... uh...” He was lost for words, and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“Sorry,” I said in a British accent. “Why don't you just take a seat, while I just dye your hair in black? And I'll go and hang out with Allison's sons, after this whole thing.”

“Alright.” He walked towards the seat. “So...?”

“Oh, don't worry. This will only take _fifteen_ minutes,” I told him. “Then I'll be out of your hair.”

He chuckled. “That wasn't, what I was going to ask you.”

Oh. “Then what are you...'bout to _ask_ me?”

“Your name?” he said, pushing the words out of his mouth.  
“Dixie Clarthone,” I said. “I know, it sounds a little bit British...But my mom married a lousy Brit, that I don't give a _fuck_ about.”

“Maxwell Clarthone? I didn't know that he li-”

“No, not Maxwell...”

“Then who is it?”

“Charles...Clarthone.”

“Oh, right?” he said, slightly biting his lower lip. “Charles...”

“That's exactly my reaction, when I...”

“When you what?”

“It's nothing. It's _actually_ very personal to discuss.” I held the comb in my hand and played with it, awkwardly. I saw a hand reach for mine.

“You know, what? Don't worry about it,” he said. “I can understand you.”

I sighed. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” He smiled.

I turned my head and smiled back. “So, what about you?”

“Well, I'm an actor.”

“Oh, what have you been in?”

“A couple of blockbusters, and a few Independents here and there.” I took the towel from his head, when the buzzer rang. I took a step back, as he stood up and admired himself in the mirror. “Wow, I can't even see my roots. I must say that you've _done_ an incredible job.”

“Nah, no need,” I said, “to thank me.”

“It's just a job,” we say in unison.

“Yeah!”

“Well, I've got to go,” he said, reaching his hand for a handshake. “I'm Tom. And it's a pleasure to meet you.”

I grabbed his hand and shook it. “The pleasure's mine, Tom.”


	2. Tom Hiddleston

I walked onto the set and saw Christa causing a scene. I walked towards Allison and stood beside her. I placed my hands in my pockets. “So, what's going on here?” I asked. Allison looked at me and shook her head. “What's going on?” I repeated.

 

“I heard you the first time,” she said, “but Christa only acts like a goody-two-shoes around people that she likes.”

 

“Such as whom?” I crossed my arms and tilted my head, watching Christa throw everything at Production Assistants and Extras. “So, how long will this thing lasts?” Allison gave me a look that said, ' _it only just begun_ ' and walked towards her husband, John. John C Reilly.

 

“I QUIT!” I heard Christa scream at Amber, the director for _Legendary Lovers_. And walked towards me. “What the hell are you looking at, you filthy Brit?” I blinked and took a few steps back, and put my hands up.

 

 _She's way too much of a psycho_. “Nothing, Christa. I'm not looking at you,” I lied. “I was just looking at the scenery, like I always do.”

 

“Good, asshole,” she said, bumping into me as she passes.

 

I turned around. “You know, Christa. You've gone too far, and if Amber won't fire you.” I folded my arms. “Then _I_ will,” I said, pointing to myself. “Because I just had it with you, when I saw what you did.” I looked to my right, and saw Dixie giving Allison and John their drinks. “And I suggest that you _leave_ now!”

 

“Pathetic,” she said, before leaving the movie set.

 

I walked towards Amber sitting on her director's chair. She looked up at me. “Thanks. Now, we need to audition someone to play your character's younger sister,” Amber said, harshly.

 

“I'm sorry that Christa is too _much_ of a diva for me to work with.”

 

She took a deep breath. “I guess, your right,” she said. “Do you have any suggestions?”

 

I folded my arms and brushed my beard with my right hand. I began pacing myself into trains and trains of thought. “Here's your coffee, Amber,” I heard Dixie say. I turned my head and gave Dixie a light smile. Dixie looked at me, as she narrowed her eyes. “What?”

 

“Amber... I think I've found us our new Cleo.” I placed my arm around Dixie's shoulder. “Of course, Dixie has to thank me, if this movie becomes her _golden_ ticket to a new beginning.”

 

“I agree with you, but go through her lines with her. And I'll schedule a screen test for her.”

 

“Oh, sure thing.”

 

A few days later, I saw two production assistants change the name on the trailer in front of mine. I sighed and walked towards them. They looked at me, and slowly back away from the door. “It's ok,” I told them. I looked at the name on the door. It reads: _Diane Alexandria_ in sparkling gold letters. I smiled, as I saw a familiar face open the door. I guided her down the steps. “Congratulations on getting the part.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“They must liked you to give you the part that fast.”

 

“Tom, it wasn't easy,” she said. “I had to work my ass off.”

 

“Dixie...tell me the truth.”

 

“Ok, I had to mock you a few times.”

 

“Mock?” I asked, giving her a stern look.

 

“Yes, mock. What's the problem with that?”

 

I shook my head, and put on a small frown on my face.

 

“Tom. Do you have a problem with a mock?”

 

“I already answered that question, Dixie,” I said, mischievously.

 

“Oh my fucking god,” she exclaimed. “Tom stop being Loki at a time like this.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Forget it.” She walked back to her trailer door. “I'll just see you on set.” She opened her trailer door, and walked inside.

 

“I'll see you there t-” She interrupted my sentence, as she closed her trailer door. _I can't believe that she just did that_. I puffed.


	3. Dixie Clarthone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to Vegas in a couple of days. Also, I'm starting school on the 23rd of September. But here you go, Chapter 3. EnJoy!

I walked towards the bench and sat down with a book in hand, gazing at the sunset. I slowly turned my head, as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

 

“Is anyone sitting here?” a male American voice asked me.

 

I shook my head and slightly moved down the bench, allowing for someone to sit beside me.

 

“What did you think happened?” he asked. “Or was bound to happen between me and Clara?”

 

I shrugged. “I don't know,” I said with a sigh. “She wasn't supposed to be there. All the records. All the documents... It just doesn't make any sense, Mark.”

 

“Then what does,” he said, slowly slipping into his British accent. I turned my head and looked at him with a blunt look on my face. He had his head down, and chuckled lightly. He gradually lifts his head. “I'm so, so sorry. I might've messed up quite a bit there. Can we maybe start again?”

 

“Tom, it's fine. Let's start from Diane's last line,” she said, over the megaphone. “Action!”

 

 _Oh my god, Tom!_ I took a deep breath and exhaled. “She wasn't supposed to be there. All the records. All the documents... It just doesn't make any sense, Mark.”

 

“Then what does,” he replied in an American accent. “If letting her go is my only option, then so be it.”

 

“You don't have to... I mean... I... I... I am your little sister.” I leaned in for an embrace. “I'm supposed to make things hard. I can't jus-”

 

“Cleo?”

 

“What?”

 

“I get it... You don't have to explain,” he said, before we gave each other a hug.

 

* * *

 

I crept down the spiral staircase, wrapping my leopard-print blanket, and leaned over the railings. I saw my mom serving two guys tea, and my favorite sneaker-doodle cookies. “Dammit mom,” I muttered to myself. _Those are my cookies_. I leaned back, slowly walking down the stairs.

 

“Morning, Lady. Sleep well,” she said, smiling.

 

“Yes, ma. I did _sleep_ well.” I glanced at the plate that she held in her hands. I reached out my left hand and grabbed one, right off the plate. As I heard a chuckle from one of the guys sitting on the sofa, I quickly turned my head and narrowed my eyes. “What the hell?”

 

“Sorry, I just simply thought that you were joking... Sorry,” he said, constantly repeating the word sorry. “Sorry,” he mouthed.

 

“It's fine... And how did you _know_ where I live?” I asked. And in reply, he shrugged his shoulders. _Stalker much_. “Acceptable,” I said, as my mom placed her hands on my shoulders like she wanted to introduce them to me, herself. “Ma?” I had to ask, allowing myself to get embarrassed just this once.

 

“Dixie... These two are in your dad's new movie,” she said with a slight croak in her throat. “What was it called again?”

 

“The last time that I checked,” the Sherlock looking guy said, “it was called _Bed of Roses_.” He looked towards my direction, hoping to get a positive reaction from both of us.

 

“Oh, yes... But this is my oldest daughter, Dixie. Marissa and my youngest, Damian will be here shortly.”

 

 _Wow, wordy...great_.

 

“And Dix, that's Tom.” She pointed the tips of her fingers at him. “You know... Loki,” she whispered, making me laugh quietly. “And the guy to his right is Benedict Cumberbatch.”

 

 _More like Benedict Cumberbitch_. “Nice to meet you, Ben. And I know, Tom from...” I snapped my fingers a couple of times, causing my mom to take her hands off my shoulders.

 

“Legendary Lovers?”

 

“That's it.”

 

“We just finished filming the movie about six month ago. And Amber had the look of relief on her face like,” he said. “Tom. Diane. We've got it,” he attempted to impersonate Amber, making me smile. _Damn you_. He lifted the tea cup off the saucer and took a small sip of tea.

 

“Yeah, Amber. That girl got skill,” I said, praising his impersonation.

 

“That's so true.” He looked at Benedict. “But you should go see it, you'll be surp-.”

 

“Wait,” my mom had the urge to interrupt. “I thought that Legendary Lovers was canceled, because Christa didn't want to do the film, anymore. Right?”

 

“That's what I thought too,” said Benedict, giving me and Tom a stern look.

 

“Your not getting the _exact_ story with Christa,” Tom replied. “She's a rightful diva.”

 

“And what is the exact story behind Christa, not wanting to do Legendary Lovers?”

 

“Oh, it's a long story,” I said. “Short.”

 

“She kind of trashed the set,” Tom added.

 

“Well, whatever the story is. Let's just keep it to ourselves,” my mom said without hesitation.


	4. Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Back! and I wrote a few chapters, while I was in Vegas. And the heat might be on in the current chapter that I'm writing. ~MJ

I looked out the window, as Dixie's mum turned on the television set. I saw a blackbird fly out of its nest looking for something that it can use to feed its chicks, when they hatch out of their shell.

 

“Hello, I'm Blake Kings,” a female voice said, reportively. I turned my head to face the television, as she turned herself along with the switching of one camera from another. “And this is Access Hollywood. Ryan Seacrest can't be here tonight because of American Idol's newest season being filmed in Hawaii, for the first time in American Idol history. But first, we head over on set of the half-black, half-Asian remake of the Elvis Presley film, Love Me _Tender_.”

 

“What?” I heard Dixie say in disgust. “They decided on remaking Love Me Tender! I was supposed to be the _fucking_ make-up artist for that.” She sat beside me, and picked up the remote control and turned up the volume by two notches. “Well, good luck on the Oscar nomination,” she muttered.

 

“Well said,” Benedict agreed with Dixie's comment. “No one can remake a classic, unless they can find a proper cast that can match the chemistry that the original cast had.”

 

I sighed.

 

“What do you think, Tom?” he asked.

 

“Tom?” Dixie repeated.

 

“What?”

 

“What do you think of the remake?” Dixie asked with her eyes fixed on the television set.

 

 _Well_... “You two most definitely took the words right out of my mouth.” I looked at Dixie, turning my head. I saw a guy in a fedora, talking to a reporter. “It's nothing compared to the original cast, but if they wanted to remake the film. They should just revive the story and change the characters up a bit. Or modernise the story up a bit.”

 

“What is it like working with Mr Mars?” the reporter asked, the tall brunette.

 

“Well, he's so fun to be around. And he plays his own guitar which I didn't know about, until he sang the title sound for this movie...in the movie,” the tall brunette said, as Dixie yawned and picked up the remote control beside her, and changed the television channel. She began to chuckle.

 

“What's so funny?”

 

“I just remembered, how much she bores me.” I snatched the remote control from her hand, and turned the television off. “Hey,” she said, as her jaw dropped.

 

“Dixie? Is something bothering you?” I couldn't help but ask her.

 

“Nothing is bothering me, Tom. _Nothing_ ,” she said, under her breath.

 

“Then you won't mind going to a pub later.”


	5. Dixie Clarthone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've listened to the Great Gatsby soundtrack, and thought about where I'm going to take this story, but I'm not going to say anything. Just keep reading. ;) ~MJ

_Pub?_ I had my eyes say, as I watched Tom gently place the remote on top of the coffee table, and accepted his plea. “Name the place and time, Tom?” I looked slightly towards the coffee table, eyeballing the tea cups. One had the teabag still dipped in the boiling water. And the other had its teabag on the saucer, almost staining, touching the coffee table.

 

“The underground pub in Los Angeles,” he said, reaching for the teacup in front of him. He lift the teacup and took a small sip of tea. “Tomorrow at eight at night.”

 

“The London Underground Club in Sunset _Boulevard_.” I picked up the remote for the radio and pressed the power button. And Jesse McCartney's Superbad banged and boomed its way out of the speakers. “Perfect.” I smirked.

 

“Can you lower down the volume a bit?” Benedict asked. Tom stood up, pulling me towards him. As we made our way towards an empty space, we began dancing along with the music.

 

 _Damn, boy got moves_. “NO,” Tom and I said in unison.

 

* * *

 

I picked up my phone and saw Tom's name, under the 6:08 time written in a large font size. I slide the green icon to the right and typed in my pass-code, before reading the text.

 

 _Dixie, be ready by 6:30 and bring sunglasses. You may need them_ – Tom

 

I giggled for a bit, then I replied.

 

 _I thought you said 8pm sharp, Tom? But ok, I'll bring sunglasses. Girly ones. Haha_ – Dixie

 

 _Well, I lied. And besides, the paparazzi’s won't suspect a thing_ – Tom

 

 _Fine, but is Ben coming? He could pass as my brother :P_ – Dixie

 

“Dix, Tom's here,” I heard my mom say from downstairs. _Shit_.

 


	6. Dixie Clarthone

I ran towards my closet drawers, casually pulling out a leather jacket and sliding it on me. And turned my head, as I heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” I said, hearing the twist of the doorknob and the squeaking of the door.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

 _I might be_. I nodded.

 

“Well, come on then,” he said, placing his hand in front of him with his palms facing up. “We don't want to be late.”

 

“Tom? I need to ask you a question.”

 

“What?” He smiled. “What is it?”

 

“What if they hate me? What if they think that I'm not good enough?” I sighed. “Have you ever felt and thought about it, this way? Because I feel so alone, in this world.”

 

He walked up to me, and gave me a hug. “Dixie... You are not alone, there,” he said, pulling away from the hug. “I _actually_ had the same thoughts as you, when I first started in this business.”

 

 _I hope you're right_. “Thank you” was all that I could say to him.

 

“Let's go,” he said, taking my hand and leading me out my bedroom, grabbing a pair of black stilettos. “Here, wear these.” He grabbed my hand and placed the stilettos on top, then layed it on the floor for me, just to slip my feet in. I slid my feet inside the stilettos and walked towards the door.

 

“C'mon, you two,” I said. “My mom. She's taken.” I walked towards Tom's car in California, and tried to open the door to the passenger seat, but it was locked. I leaned against the car door. I saw the front door of my house open. Tom and Benedict walked out like the own the place. I smiled lightly and heard the car door unlock by the push of a button. _What took them so long?_ “Shot gun,” I called out. We got in the car and headed our way over to Sunset Boulevard, just to find The London Underground Club – an eighteen and over club, inspired by the infamous Nottingham movie.

 

“Keep left, and it's the third exit,” Benedict recited. “After that, turn right, then left, then right again.”

 

“That's the Vegas turns,” I corrected him. “After the third exit, you _should_ turn left, left again, then you turn right.”

 

“The native has spoken, Ben. We're turning left.”

 

 _He called me a native...that's new_.

 


	7. Bruno Mars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go to theladymonroe on livejournal for the note for this chapter.

 

“Phil, what's going on outside?” I was curious. “Why's there a massive group of people crowding around the doorway?” I said, trying to get a better view of the door from the VIP section. I saw two tall guys walk in with someone that no one can hardly spot from the crowd, from where I was standing. “Who did those guys come in with?”

“Damn, Bruno,” he said, as he turned his head. “Why are you asking so many fucking questions, man?”

“I don't know man.”

“It isn't like in New York, when you asked a Latina woman for her number. And look where it got you?” He brought the wine glass in front of him. “It got you with a child that you don't want. And a bad reputation amongst teen girls' parents.”

I took a sip of beer. “I know, man. But this time it's different.” I sighed. “Can I just prove to you that I can change? No mo' playin' 'round with some girl.” I turned my head, leaning against the railings.

“Ok, Brunz.” We turned around, to face the bar and the dancefloor. “Let's start a bet.”

“You're on, Phil.” I chuckled. “I choose the girl. You tell me her name.”

“Deal.”

I saw a girl just about to sit down on a stool. “Her.” I pointed to the girl in black. “I just need her name.”

“She looks like a Jackson.”

“What 'bout her first name, Phil?”

“She's either a Scarlette or a Charlotte. What d'ya think?”

“I was thinking that she was a Rosa.” I walked towards the staircase and started to walk down the steps. There was no going back from that moment on.

 


	8. Dixie Clarthone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been working on my Drewlock fanfiction. I will write and update both. :) ~MJ

I heard Adam Lambert's _Fever_ rocking out from the Dj's set list, as Tom and Ben made their way towards the dancefloor. And danced their dance to the vibrations of the music. _A dance-off?_ Maybe. I shook my head, smiling, turning myself around to face the bar. “Hey bartender,” I said. My eyes widened, as the bartender turned himself right around, cleaning a wine glass. _Oh my god, no way_. “Ken fucking Bristol.”

 

“Dixie bitch Clarthone. What can I get for you?”

 

 _Typical, Ken_. “The Rocky Horror.” The Rocky Horror drink was mine and Ken's invention, when we were an item. And all it took was a doze of Apple Cider. Salt and Vinegar pop chips, crushed. And a splash of cranberry juice. All of that in a wine glass that's been covered with melted chocolate. _I don't know, why it was invented in the first place_.

 

“I'm on it,” he said.

 

“I'll time you,” I insisted. “Beat your record?”

 

“You're on, Dix.”

 

“One minute on the clock,” I said, twisting the knob, to set the timer to sixty seconds. “You know the rules.”

 

“Game on,” he said, as he picked up the wine glass and started to show-off his bar-tending skills, calling over a group of women that are probably there for a bachelorette party. And some guy with a semi-Afro hair-do. I joined the women along, as they cheered on Ken.

 

“Hey, you may not know me... But I'm,” the guy with the Afro said, grabbing my attention, “the Gorilla guy. I'm Bruno Mars.”

 

“Was that a pick up line?” I glanced over and caught a glimpse of the tattoos on his arm. “Here's a little tip of picking up women like me... Don't use those damned pick-up lines.” I guided my eyes up, just so that I could see the truth. “They just _never_ work.”

 

He sighed, looking down then back up. “I'm trying to get you to dance with me.” Ken placed my drink on the table, then pressed the bell on the timer. “Will you dance with me?”

 

“Let me think about it,” I said, grabbing my drink and taking a sip. “Thanks, Ken.”

 

“Hmm Mmm,” said Ken, as he picked up the wine glass that he was cleaning about a minute ago.

 

“How about...a _small_ trip to the VIP section of this club? How about that?”

 

“Are you trying to please me?”

 

“No,” he said, right under his breath. “I'm trying to get you to come home with me.”

 

“Come home with you?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Why would I want to do that?”

 

“Because I can make you the talk of the town, in just one night.”

 

I sighed, louder than I ever did before. “Then take me there.”


	9. Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains two point of views, and Mature Contents that is inappropriate for children. If you choose to read ahead, you have been warned!

* Dixie's POV *

I gave my note for Tom with Ken, before taking Bruno's hand and leaving the club without Tom or Ben. _What is going on with me?_ I gave it another thought, as I stopped myself from walking into his vintage Cadillac car. “Do you wanna go home with me or not?” I nodded, instead of saying it in words. “Great. Get in the car,” he said, opening the passenger door and assisting me inside.

 

I followed him with my eyes, as he made his way towards the other side of the car. He tapped the car window, and pointed to the lock. I pulled the lock and unlocked the car, so that he could hop inside. I slid myself back, and face the road. I heard the car door slam, loudly. He started the car engine, swiftly, as he turned his head and attempted to give me a wink. He reached for gear knob, but I felt his hand touch my crotch. _Oh god_. He moved his hand onto the gear knob, and pulled it towards the 'D'. And drove off.

 

* Tom's POV *

I looked towards the bar and didn't see her there. “Holy shit,” I muttered. _I'm so dead, if Lyric found out that I've lost her daughter_. I quickly made my way towards the tables, calling his name over and over again. “Ben,” I yelled one more time, over the pub's loud music. “Benedict!” I looked around the pub again, just in case that I was mistaken. “Dixie! Dixie!” _Where the hell could she be?_

 

I felt a tap on my shoulder, so I turned around and saw her sister. Dixie's sister, crying and wrapped around with a blanket. “Arisa, are you ok?” I asked her.

 

She shock her head, in reply. “Ha-ha-have you seen my sister, Dixie?” She said with a slight hesitation in her voice.

 

“No, I have not, since we left her at the bar.”

 

“If you find her, tell her that I need to talk to her.”

 

I sighed with regret. “I will Arisa,” I said. “And you know, we can stay here for a while and I can keep you company, until Dixie and Ben shows up.”

 

* Dixie's POV *

He opened the front door of his own. I walked inside, as he followed closely behind me. “Nice place,” I said, feeling his warm embrace around my waist, and the touch of his hand on my cheek. I turned around and gave him a mischievous look. I made my way towards his lounge, removing my jacket and dropping it on the floor. I sat down on his sofa, alertingly turning my head, as I heard him clap his hands, making the temperature of the room gradually drop ten degrees hotter.

 

“Thanks, but it's too big for just one,” he said, walking towards me and blinding me with a piece of silk fabric wrapped around me head. I felt his hand go down my tank top. “Cum for me,” he demanded. And I did, as I felt my tank top and bra come off. He placed his finger tips on my chin, making me turn around. “Stand up.”

 

I stood up, as I heard his footsteps making it was towards my back. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled my skinny jeans down, pulling them right of my legs. I felt the back of my head bang on top of the sofa's headboard. He turned me around, and I felt him pushing my bare back towards sofa's headboard. He placed his hand on my stomach, guiding his pointer finger down towards my panties. I placed my hands on his shoulders, as he leaned in and bit my panties, pulling them down with his teeth. “Oh god,” I cummed, as he started to lick my crotch. He placed his lower lip on where my panties should be, and guided his lower lip towards me boobs. “Hurt me,” I whispered, as I felt his grasp of his hands on my bare butt.

 

“Let's go to my room,” he said, as I felt the whispers of his breath on one of my boobs. I nodded. He grabbed my hand and lead me towards his room. When we got to his bedroom door, he pinned me against the wall. I felt the rub of his jeans, rubbing against my crotch and the texture of his shirt, touching my nipples. He opened his bedroom door, and pushed it wide open. He dragged me inside, then pinned me against the wall with his hands on my wrist, pulling my arms up all the way above my head. “Stay there,” he said, “and keep your hands up.”

 

I heard him open a drawer and taking something out of it. I heard duct tape being pulled, placing piece of duct tape on my left wrist and ripped the duct tape away from the roll. He did the same thing to my right wrist. He pulled the fabric down towards my neck and leaves it there. I saw him take off his shirt, followed by his jeans and quickly went towards me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I looked down at my boobs. I saw him open his mouth and leaned towards a boob, biting his as hard as he could. I cummed, “Oh baby, baby.”

 

He took his right hand off my shoulder, and shoved three of his fingers inside my vagina. I was hurting, but  _ why do I love it?  _ I had no idea. “Spread your legs, bitch,” he said, pulling his fingers out of my vagina and placed his hands on my crotch. I pulled my feet as far as I could standing up. He duct taped my ankles to the wall. I had no control, over what he does to me.


End file.
